


Cupid is a Real Gay Shooter

by CobaltSea, GingerBeer42, J_Anthony, JoyfulOmens (IDontHaveACleverQuip), MaddyTeddy, Mnemosign26



Series: IWG 2020 Holidays [2]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining, Drunk Aziraphale, Drunk Crowley (Good Omens), Fake/Pretend Relationship, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Ineffable Writers Guild, M/M, Pet Names, Pining, Post-Apocalypse, These dorks I swear to Someone, They’re idiots, ineffable valentines, valentines day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-02-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22701301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CobaltSea/pseuds/CobaltSea, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GingerBeer42/pseuds/GingerBeer42, https://archiveofourown.org/users/J_Anthony/pseuds/J_Anthony, https://archiveofourown.org/users/IDontHaveACleverQuip/pseuds/JoyfulOmens, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddyTeddy/pseuds/MaddyTeddy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mnemosign26/pseuds/Mnemosign26
Summary: Aziraphale had been anticipating this event all year long. But there was just one problem: It was couples only. Where in God’s name was he supposed to find a date? He had no close relationships… other than Crowley. But he couldn’t ask him, right?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Series: IWG 2020 Holidays [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632805
Comments: 27
Kudos: 126
Collections: Ineffable Writers Guild





	Cupid is a Real Gay Shooter

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Valentines Day! Another installment from the Ineffable Writers Guild and our holiday series! Fics in this series are standalone and do not need to be read in any order, if you choose to read them all in the first place XD

The letter came on a cold and rainy day late in January. The thick creamy paper of the envelope was stamped shut with a familiarly anachronistic seal on the back, the front adorned with precise handwriting that neatly looped the name and address of Mr. A.Z. Fell. Aziraphale wiggled excitedly while he carefully tore the top part of the envelope open with his antique letter opener. 

Aziraphale’s excitement gradually fell as he read through the message, then read through it once more to ensure he wasn't mistaken. He was not. The biggest event of the season for antique book collectors… and it was for couples only. 

“What sort of utter nonsense is this? _Since when_ does acquiring books and keeping connections require a _romantic_ partner? Ugh. Well, I simply won’t go then, that’s all. I just won't go!” He stuffed the letter into his top desk drawer, intent on forgetting about it. Crowley was due to visit any moment now to take him for lunch, and he would have a _splendid time_ with the demon and not think another word on the matter.

Aziraphale harumphed his way into the backroom to await Crowley’s arrival.

–

Crowley did not disappoint. Shortly after Aziraphale’s huff had occurred, the bookshop door swung open with a familiar dingle and Crowley’s voice rang through the empty shop.

“Ready to go, angel?”

Aziraphale was _very_ ready to go and spend time with Crowley, far away from that letter he continued to think about despite his best efforts. 

While at lunch Aziraphale’s dreary mood made itself known yet again in his lackluster enjoyment of several splendid courses. 

As they were awaiting dessert, Crowley could take it no more and gave up trying to avoid the issue. “Alright, spill it. What’s wrong?”

“Wha- wrong? Why _ever_ would you think _anything_ is wrong, dear boy?”

Crowley eyed the way Aziraphale was gripping his cutlery far too tightly. “Can’t imagine.”

“Oh. It’s just...” Aziraphale huffed yet again and the dam broke. “My favorite event is coming up. You know the one, I had you help me carry the books back to the shop last year.”

Crowley winced at the memory of carrying enough books to literally crush a human to death while Aziraphale followed by his side chattering excitedly, holding two he claimed were significantly rarer and needed gentle handling. “Mm yeah, I remember.”

“There’s going to be _important people_ , people that only come out once a year especially for this event, and I need to keep up my connections! They're also holding a fundraiser and will be quite cross if I don’t contribute to the cause,” Aziraphale nattered on. 

“Sounds like your type of event, alright. Positively _boring_. What’s got your knickers in a twist, then?” 

Aziraphale sighed, exasperated. “Because I _can’t go_ ! It’s a _Valentine’s Day_ event. You can only go when you have a _date_ and I don’t have one.” 

Crowley raised his eyebrows above his sunglasses, slouched a bit lower in his chair and pointed smugly towards himself. 

“I don’t even _know_ anyone who could be my date, or would want to,” Aziraphale sighed dramatically, oblivious to Crowley. 

Crowley frowned and jabbed a finger at himself again with slightly more force. "Oi!"

But Aziraphale was on a roll now, “And I know you probably don’t want to hear about it, darling, I do. But it’s just so _frustrating_ ! It's like they _intentionally_ planned the event this way to keep me out of it! Can you believe the nerve of-”

“Hey.” Crowley grabbed one of Aziraphale’s flailing hands to finally get the angel’s attention. “You know, I just so happen to know somebody you could take.” He gestured to himself yet again, positive he’d finally made his point.

“Oh, really?” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up in an instant. “Oh, well, you simply must introduce me then. Shame on you for letting me go on like that when you could’ve fixed it,” the angel mock scolded, while Crowley blinked, actually blinked, at the response. Did…did Aziraphale really not know? Or was he just pulling Crowley’s leg?

Aziraphale continued to smile patiently while Crowley processed the situation. 

“Uh.” He very slowly lifted a finger and pointed to himself. Aziraphale’s eyes moved from the finger to Crowley’s face a few times before he finally connected the dots.

“Oh! Oh, my dear boy, I couldn't drag you to something like that!”

“Well, why not?”

“ _Aside from the fact we aren’t dating_ , you would be bored to tears.”

Crowley opened his mouth to argue but, “Eh, you have a point.” He _would_ be bored at such an uptight stupid gathering, and Aziraphale likely wouldn’t be too happy if he made a ruckus at his fancy schmancy book event either. But the other thing? That kind of hurt. “What do you mean, _not_ dating?”

Aziraphale turned as his dessert chose this moment to arrive, biding his time to fill his fork so as not to see the look on Crowley’s face when he spoke. “While I admit we’re on our own side now, that doesn’t mean we can be careless.”

“Wha- I- you- That’s exactly what it means!”

“Don’t make a scene, Crowley.”

Crowley glowered and crossed his arms in a huff. “Fine, we 'aren’t dating'. But you still need _a date_ don't you? I don’t see any other demons eagerly offering you a way into your stupid little book club.”

“I should certainly hope not.” Aziraphale responded primly, patting a napkin to his lips.

“ _What do you mean_ we aren’t dating?” Crowley insisted yet again, unable to move on from the previous point despite seemingly accepting it already. “Aren't we on one now?”

"Not a _lunch_ date, Crowley! A _romantic_ date."

Crowley held his hands out gesturing and making a grand scene of looking around the very intimate and romantic table they were currently sharing. 

“Oh, hush.” Aziraphale blustered giving a quick smack to Crowley’s arm. “Just because I have a refined palette doesn’t mean we’re… romantically involved… Does it?” Aziraphale hesitated pulling his hands close to his chest and fidgeting with his pinky ring. 

_Would that really be so bad?_ Crowley thought to himself, fearing to actually voice the concerns. He thought they’d gotten past all this after they hadn’t died. “Well then. We could be in a _pretend_ relationship.”

“Pretend?” Aziraphale questioned.

“Yeah, pretend. Just like being undercover, right? Pretend date! Humans do it all the time!"

“Oh…” The angel bit his lip, his nerves getting the better of him. Honestly he would love nothing more than to be on a _real_ date with Crowley, but it just wasn’t safe, right? Aziraphale gave a saddened sigh and forced a smile on his face. “Alright then. Pretend date. That’s…good enough, I suppose.” 

“Then it’s settled!” Crowley held up his glass expecting a toast, but at being left hanging he instead began sipping his drink once more.

“Settled. Quite right…” Aziraphale stared gloomily into his dessert, forcing himself to take another bite. It would be such a shame to waste it after all.

–

Valentine’s Day arrived far sooner than either supernatural entity was prepared for and they really had done a pitiful amount of preparation. Independently, both Crowley and Aziraphale had decided talking about being on a date or in a relationship, however fake it may be presented as, was far too intimate and heart wrenching to deal with. So as was typical with them, they simply _didn’t talk about it at all_. 

When Valentine’s Day arrived, so too did Crowley on the front steps of the bookshop, looking sharp and lacking his ridiculous necktie scarf. He hadn’t bothered with his usual waistcoat, instead donning a maroon dress shirt made of satin underneath his black suit jacket. 

“Crowley.” Aziraphale acknowledged as he stepped out of the back room, eyeing the demon in question like a treat he’d like to devour. 

Crowley’s mouth went dry as he took in his angel’s appearance. Aziraphale had decided to actually change up his outfit for the first time in centuries from his frumpy worn down librarian look to a creamy suit with golden buttons and embroidery that must have taken years if it was done by hand as Crowley suspected (even if it was still an outdated affair). _Oh that's just not fair…_ Crowley whined as he racked his brain to come up with words that didn’t consist of ‘ngk’, ‘ngh’, or ‘nghk’. 

“H-hi, angel,” finally tumbled out of his lips and he held out an offering of glossy red roses, a pink heart shaped box of chocolates, and two pocket squares, one cream and the other deep red. “Er, I-I didn’t know what to bring, so I just got them all.” 

“Thank you,” Aziraphale smiled nervously, accepting the gifts and tucked the red square in his pocket rather messily. He tried not to pay too much attention to the chocolate box, choosing to set it on the front desk for now. “Best we get this over with. Not that I want– Just, you might get bored?”

“No, no, wait,” Crowley said, fumbling with his jacket. The ridiculously small pockets somehow managed to regurgitate a large card, which the demon held up. “Got this for you too. Something something, romantic gesture, whatever.” Looking positively embarrassed, he waved it around in the air. 

Aziraphale took the card. It was thick, obviously expensive, pink paper, with a chubby Cupid design on it in swirling lines of gold and silver. Crowley had scribbled out the Cupid’s bow with a Sharpie and replaced it with a crude drawing of a flaming sword. (Aziraphale had to take a second glance to ensure it really was a sword and not... something else.) 

“Very funny,” he said, nevertheless pocketing the card carefully. 

“Well, I _am_ a demon.” Crowley gave a rare genuine smile as he leaned in to fix Aziraphale’s pocket square. “That’s better,” he muttered and held out his arm. “So, shall we?”

Aziraphale took it. “Of course, dear boy.”

–

The ride towards the event was mostly spent in silence. It was held in Leighton House, which wasn’t a long ride with how fast Crowley could maneuver the Bentley through London traffic (though he _was_ being extra careful for his angel’s special day). He parked the Bentley half on a curb in front of the establishment and went around the bonnet to open the door for Aziraphale. 

Crowley offered his arm once again and Aziraphale felt a bit giddy when he accepted this time. The front of the building was decorated with red and pink balloons and lots of fairy lights. Aziraphale handed over their invitation and they walked into a hallway filled with red roses. 

They passed the cloakroom and Crowley was almost shocked when the angel handed over his pretty coat. Finally, they entered the party which was mainly held in the lobby and was more than a little impressive despite the ridiculous decorations at the door. Dark wooden panelling led up to high ceilings, and decorated crystal chandeliers. Many obviously bookish humans in out of style suits and dresses were already mingling throughout the room. 

“No wonder you fit in here.” Crowley stage whispered to Aziraphale, and gave a chuckle as he received a side eyed glare for his efforts.

The supernatural couple made their way further into the room, mingling ever so casually as Aziraphale led them towards the refreshments table. “I tell you, Crowley, aside from the connections, this event always did have the most scrumptious hors d'oeuvres.”

Crowley snorted, “Of course they do. Only the best, right angel?”

Aziraphale smiled, “You know me too well, my- oh no…” The smile fled in panic and Aziraphale attempted to hide his face behind Crowley’s thin frame.

“What?”

“Don't look! Don’t look, maybe they won't see me.”

“Who?” Crowley questioned and looked anyway, eventually making eye contact with a rather uppity looking human, who was most assuredly making his way towards them. “Oh.”

“I thought that was you, Mr. Fell! How’s the book shop doing so far?” The man had a posh accent and was followed closely behind by a rather lovely woman in an ornate dress. 

Aziraphale gave the slightest groan of dread before stepping away from his demonic hiding place and giving his best customer service smile. “Hello, Mr. Taylor, what a coincidence meeting you here,” he pressed between clenched teeth. Goodness sake, he hated this man.

Crowley felt the tension in the room rise. “Oh boy, book drama.” He wished he could miracle up some popcorn and a chair to enjoy the show. Whoever this Taylor was didn’t know who he was dealing with.

“Haven’t seen you since last year’s event,” Taylor chuckled. “How do you like the new couples rule? I thought it really brought some more life to the party.”

“Tha- That was you?!” Aziraphale gaped. Sure, he’d complained the rule had been made to ostracize him, but he hadn’t actually believed it!

Taylor nodded and drew the beautiful woman closer to himself. “Thought it would be a fantastic way to show off my lovely wife, don’t you, Denise?”

Denise smiled, nodding her head in acknowledgement. “So nice to finally meet you, Mr. Fell. I’ve heard so much about you.”

“Pleasure, madam.” 

“And, where is your date for the evening?”

“My-my date? Uh, why YES! Uh, my date. Um that would be, Crow- _Anthony_ , here.” Aziraphale suddenly felt very nervous as he gestured towards the demon. “He’s my, uh…” Crowley and Aziraphale exchanged a look, realizing neither of them had made up a backstory at all, much less a believable one.

Taking pity on Aziraphale, Crowley stepped forward and offered a hand to the woman. “Anthony Crowley, pleasure.” 

“Oh, the pleasure is all mine, Mr. Crowley.” Denise gave a coy smile as he took her hand and kissed it.

Taylor looked the demon up and down, before commenting, “I didn’t know they allowed _rent boys_ , here. What is this society coming to?” He shook his head pompously in distaste.

“He’s not a–!” Aziraphale spluttered scandalized. “He’s my– my…boyfriend?”

Crowley gave an inhuman wheeze at the label and took a step back to collect himself. Pretending they were in a relationship was easy, so long as neither of them actually labeled it as one. He hadn’t realized how his inhuman insides would twist at a label for them. Even if _boyfriend_ was a rather stupid one. Aziraphale glared at him, and he coughed trying to collect himself. “Yes, right. _Boyfriend_.” 

“Boyfriend?”

“Yes,” said Aziraphale, “That.” He awkwardly put his arm around Crowley’s shoulders, trying to look romantic and ignore the vibrant blush crossing his face at the action. Crowley shuddered, the pesky humans the furthest thing from his mind as he tried not to melt into the contact.

“I see. Ah, didn’t you say you were _married_ last year?” Taylor pressed hoping to catch Aziraphale in a lie. “Divorced already, have you?”

Aziraphale blanched, before throwing out words to correct his mistake. “Ah- yes, right! How silly of me! It’s just... it still feels like we’re only dating. My husband and I.”

If Crowley had felt his insides twist at being called boyfriend, _husband_ was a whole new level. The demon wheezed and gripped Aziraphale’s shoulder tightly. If this kept up, he was going to discorporate, or turn into a snake right in front of all these humans.

“Hm, quite.” Taylor began with an obviously forced smile, barely covering a grimace. Crowley made a note to curse the man for whatever thoughts he seemed to be having against his angel.

“Darling, weren’t we here for something?” Denise pitched in, already bored with teasing the two man-shaped beings.

“Ah, you’re correct dearheart. It would come as no shock to any of us that I desire to… purchase… your exquisite collection, Mr. Fell.”

Crowley froze, eyes widening in a mixture of fear and excitement. “ _Purchase_ his collection? My _darling_ angel, I didn't know you were _selling_ it.”

Aziraphale blushed at Crowley’s tone, managing to still huff cattily. “That’s because I’m _not_ , my _delectable serpent_.”

”Hngk.”

Mr. Taylor didn’t seem dissuaded. “Mr. Fell, you’ve amassed hundreds, if not _thousands_ of incredibly rare books. Surely you wouldn’t miss one or two?”

With a stuttering Crowley at his side, Aziraphale stood his ground. “The answer is as it was a year ago, and the year before that, and the year before that, Mr. Taylor. No.”

The pompous man scowled and tightened his grip on his wife’s arm. “Well then. We are at an impasse.” He turned to leave with only the barest of diplomacy. “Good evening gentlemen. See you next year, Fell.”

After Taylor and his wife were out of hearing range, Crowley wheezed yet again and allowed his legs to give out under him, leaning all his, admittedly insignificant weight, on Aziraphale. The pet names and labels were more than he’d expected from this trip and he didn’t know how much longer he could handle such sweet nothings from Aziraphale before he did something they might both regret.

“Why did you tell them we’re married?” Crowley whisper-shouted in a mixture of panic and delight, as he forced his legs to stop trying to snake. Aziraphale told them a year ago? That had been just after the Apocalypse, wasn’t it? 

“They were insinuating I was undesirable,” Aziraphale huffed. “Suppose I got a little carried away… _beloved_.” Aziraphale answered with the hint of a smirk on his lips.

Crowley whined and made to hide his face in his hands. “I thought this was supposed to be _fake_ dating?”

“Oh. Oh, yes! Yes this is a fake date. Completely false, just playing the role you know me. I’m a brilliant actor!”

“You’re a bloody terrible actor, Romeo.” Crowley glared from between his fingers. Two could play at the name game.

Aziraphale scoffed and straightened his bowtie. “I most certainly am not, my dearest Casanova.”

Crowley flailed, barely keeping himself from snaking out. He obviously had no intention of telling Aziraphale to stop. Instead he returned to his catch-all solution; subject change. “Fine. You were pretty good fooling that human into not realizing how much you wanted to smite him on the spot.”

“Thank you.”

"What I don’t get, is why you didn’t just miracle it so he couldn't find you in the first place?"

Aziraphale’s eyes widened. "Well, that would be cheating!" he almost squeaked. 

"Cheating...at a book benefit?" Crowley raised an unimpressed brow above his dark glasses. 

"Well..."

Crowley frowned then realized something and gaped. "You _LIKE_ the drama!"

Aziraphale opened and closed his mouth a few times, failing to find a protest to the accusations. "Well! I need _some_ entertainment when you're off wiling, don't I?"

Crowley felt his heart throb even more than the labels and pet names had done. "Oh you– fantastic bastard, you are."

"You can thank me by getting me some of those scrumptious looking morsels over there, dear."

"Of course, _love_."

_

The event became rather boring after the abrupt encounter with Mr. Taylor and his wife. Aziraphale was entirely in his element, talking with all the other book enthusiasts, while Crowley was growing bored and tired, which made him antsy. He could really care less about some obscure writer from the eighteenth century, who apparently had a giant stick up his arse from what he overheard. 

Noticing that Aziraphale’s drink was almost empty, Crowley took the opportunity to make himself scarce. “I’m gonna get us something to drink, angel,” Crowley excused himself with hardly a glance at the humans Aziraphale was conversing with.

When Crowley reached the refreshment table intending to fill two cups with the sweet liquid, he found himself distracted with the potential for minor mayhem. With an elegant flick of his fingers, the punch found itself to contain a significantly higher alcohol content than before. While several of the many wine bottles found themselves to contain little more than olive oil. A wicked surprise for whichever humans tried to taste the wine. 

He proudly grinned to himself, now the party would _really_ get started. Forgetting all about Aziraphale’s drink with the arrival of some actual entertainment, Crowley turned his thoughts to what else he could do to cause some trouble. 

The few people mingling next to the table began to have little accidents. Food dropped to the floor or on clothing, drinks spilled left and right, leaving stains on elegant fabric. Completely immersed in his 'evil' deeds, Crowley didn’t notice when Aziraphale suddenly appeared behind him. 

“Crowley! There you are, darling. Where have you been for so long?” 

“Nah, got bored. Needed a break from all… that.” Crowley gestured towards a group of “fashionable” young ladies currently bemoaning the pink stains on their dresses.

“Of course you did.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes at the shenanigans. “Would you like something to drink, dear?” he asked as he carefully poured two glasses of sparkling punch. “That is, if you haven’t tampered with it.”

“Huh? Me? Nah wouldn’t think of it,” Crowley lied.

As he accepted the glass and his fingers brushed, then lingered, against Aziraphale’s, taking his unnecessary breath away. In an attempt to steady himself after yet more contact with his angel, he took a large gulp of punch. 

The drink was sweet, with just a hint of sour. Aziraphale sipped delicately at his own and gave a moan of delight. “Goodness, this is far better than last year. Would you like another?”

“Sure.”

Crowley raised his glass to finish it off and found the cup snatched from his hand midway. He shot Aziraphale a scowl, but accepted the sheepish smile as the angel returned the cup, now filled once more. 

“So, how is the networking going?” he asked, trying to pretend that he actually wanted to hear the answer rather than just needing an excuse to stare as Aziraphale gushed. “Did you meet some new people?” The angel turned towards him, cheeks pinkened with a blush, possibly the drink, and Crowley lost the ability to speak coherently. Satan, what was _wrong_ with him this evening?

“Rather uneventful,” Aziraphale replied, oblivious to Crowley’s inner turmoil. “There was this very lovely young man with a collection of special edition Sherlock Holmes stories I’m intending to look into. The original illustrated version from the Strand, an incredibly rare find.” He turned, catching sight of Crowley’s rather glazed expression. “Ah. You don’t want to hear about that, do you?”

“No, no! It’s fine, keep going.”

“No, I– er. More punch?”

“Might as well.” 

Crowley averted his eyes as Aziraphale ladled another cupful. Okay. So the punch was already alcoholic when they got here, that was a given. And he may have tampered with it more than he’d realized. That’s fine, he knew his tolerance levels. It wouldn’t be enough to ruin thousands of years of self control around his best friend, surely? Maybe it was just Aziraphale’s hands on his once again as the cup was passed between them. 

“Here you go, _mon chou_.”

“ _Merci_. Why are you suddenly attempting French again?” Crowley wasn’t sure if it would ruin the mood if he pointed out Aziraphale had just called him a cabbage.

“It’s a pet name, dear.” Aziraphale laughed. “You should really know this, weren’t you hanging around Versailles in 1764? As well as that whole debacle with the Revolution.”

“Oh. _Right_ , yes, of course.” So they were still doing the petnames thing, then? Crowley fumbled to think of one he hadn’t used already. “It’s been a while, my… my dove.”

“Dove, that’s a new one. You do bring me to life.” Aziraphale chuckled.

Crowley smirked, “How many times _have_ you killed that poor bird?”

Aziraphale hummed. “Love is an unstoppable tide, uncountable in its vastness.”

“Way too many times, then.” Crowley nodded, taking another drink to distract himself.

They continued to banter as the drinks kept coming. Crowley was starting to consider he really had put a bit more kick into the punch than he’d realized and Aziraphale was starting to wonder just how many pet names it would take for Crowley to turn the same color as the vibrantly pink punch they were drinking.

“There’s always sugarplum. Or I do believe I read _snookums_ in a book once,” the angel insisted, almost spilling his drink as he gestured towards Crowley.

“ _What kind of books are you reading_?” Crowley set his cup down, unable to handle more alcohol on top of Aziraphale’s endless bombardment of cutesy phrases.

“Just the normal ones! You know… paper and such.” Aziraphale waved the silly question off. “But I should call my _husband_ something more than just ‘dear’ shouldn’t I?” Aziraphale _giggled_ , his cheeks heated from the alcohol. “I– I call everyone ‘dear’. But you? Crowley, my love, _mi amor_ , you are not _everyone_.”

Crowley had taken to hiding his face in his hands once again. “Angel, you’re going to kill me.” he groaned. “Forget discorporating, just dead.”

“Oh you elegant rose, exquift- exquist- _beautiful_ buttercup.” Aziraphale cooed with a slight slur, taking Crowley’s hands in his and pulling them away from the demon’s face. “Allow me to look upon thy face, such that mine eyes might gaze upon heaven.”

“M’not from heaven.”

“Semantics, love.”

Crowley was saved from more embarrassment by the arrival of fresh hors d'oeuvres to the buffet table. “Oh– oh, look! Fresh food! Great, right?” He scrambled for a distraction to escape so much emotion he knew he couldn’t have. Aziraphale was drunk, clearly more so than he was. It wouldn’t be right to take advantage of the angel in his inebriated state.

Aziraphale looked delighted at the prospect of more nibbles, and focused on a plate of tiny profiteroles. “I always love the hors d'oeuvres they have here. You simply must try one!” 

A profiterole was held delicately in Aziraphale’s plump fingers, towards Crowley’s mouth. Crowley found himself closing his eyes before leaning in towards the morsel Aziraphale held out for him, more nervous than he felt he had any right to be. It was fine, they shared food all the time, nothing wrong with that! Apparently, panic won out for Crowley and he snapped his mouth shut a moment too soon, resulting in the cream escaping the small dessert and squirting along the side of his mouth. 

“Whoops. Allow me, turtledove.” 

Ignoring the piles of hot pink napkins located in strategic intervals along the table, Aziraphale impulsively leaned in and kissed the dollop of sweet cream off the demon’s lips, his tongue darting out to ensure none was left behind. 

Crowley found his corporation making a valiant attempt to faint. Aziraphale kissed him. Him! Kissed! By Aziraphale! 

Aziraphale smiled against his lips and made to pull away, only to be stopped as Crowley grabbed him and pulled him back into a bruising kiss. 

Kissing, it seemed, was one of the many reasons why not needing to breathe was _very_ convenient. Hands roamed each other as over six thousand years of distance and playing it safe culminated into a single moment of passion. Crowley didn’t know how long they stood there entangled in each other, but he was sure it was far longer than usual. 

When they finally broke apart, the rest of the party had faded from their consciousness. They stared, lost in each other’s eyes, both trying to convey so much they couldn’t bring themselves to say out loud– when a displeased harumph interrupted them.

“Do you two mind? You’re blocking the petits fours.”

Both froze in embarrassment, unable to look at the person who was talking to them. “Right, sorry. Don’t mind us.” Aziraphale insisted, taking Crowley by the hand and leading him away from the table. 

Their superfluous hearts were beating impossibly fast and yet in perfect synchronization, as if they were trying to win a race. Varying shades of mortification were written on their faces as they processed what they’d just done, in public no less. 

Aziraphale’s mind was racing as he towed Crowley through the benefit and passed the cloakroom, not even pausing to pick their coats up in his determination to get them both out of this highly embarrassing situation as quickly as possible. 

Meanwhile, Crowley could have been on another planet as far as he knew. His thoughts were wrapped up in thick, fluffy cotton and his whole body felt like jelly. Despite the alcohol, he had a feeling none of it was due to inebriation. His feet didn’t really want to obey him anymore but that was totally fine for him at this moment because, for the first time in six thousand years, he felt totally complete. 

“Oh, _God_ ,” Aziraphale groaned as they stumbled into the cool night air. “We should not have– Why did I even think to– No. I can’t. I can’t deal with this while I’m drunk. Are _you_ drunk?” 

Crowley frowned. “Er, possibly.”

Aziraphale straightened up as he cleared the alcohol from his system. “That’s better. Why were we drunk? We hardly drank anything.”

Crowley sobered up as well, freeing his mind to recall what exactly he’d done to the punch. “Ah.”

“What is it?”

“I… there’s a tiny, _tiny_ chance that I _may_ have strengthened the punch. Whoops.” The demon began to laugh as the absurdity of the situation hit him. 

“ _Crowley_! I’ll never be able to show my face here again, you– you _fiend_!” Aziraphale smacked Crowley’s arm, but his lips were twitching, betraying the joy that was building up inside him. They _kissed_. In _public_. And neither of them had been smote from existence.

“Ngk, I mean, it was pretty boring anyway?” His pathetic defense fell on deaf ears, due to Aziraphale shoving him forward against the Bentley to snog the demon silly. 

“Consequences be damned,” Aziraphale murmured, hardly pulling back far enough to speak. “I’ve wanted this for _centuries_ at least.” He leaned in further with a slightly hysterical laugh.

Crowley, who had been absolutely sure that the angel would start to apologize and tell him it was all a drunken mistake, had no objections to this new development whatsoever.

**Author's Note:**

> Join us at the [Ineffable Writers Guild Discord server](https://discordapp.com/invite/8Z9dQPe)! We've got a challenge going this month to leave as many fiction comments as we can! Join us to help it along XD
> 
> See behind the scenes on its [Project Doc](https://docs.google.com/document/d/1Okn9XfJ3n4GnFPJ4i1tKDIQG5z-leR_HdMZvYjbPf6A)!!


End file.
